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Gout Man

LE
Book Reviewer

Gout Man

LE
Book Reviewer
In the US some time ago, different coloured handkerchiefs were worn in back pockets to indicate the wearers preferences.
Was this phenomenon nation wide or just in some Southern States:???:
 

TamH70

MIA
Was this phenomenon nation wide or just in some Southern State:???:

New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley in California (where a lot of the porn films of the gay nature used to be made), and places like that.
 
It cropped up on Arrse some time ago.
Those same words used in many a nightclub in San Francisco no doubt.

ETA - Beaten to it by @TamH70

And by beaten to it I don’t mean……oh forget it.
 

Gout Man

LE
Book Reviewer
New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley in California (where a lot of the porn films of the gay nature used to be made), and places like that.
I always thought America was a strange place.
 
We had the same at my infant school. I can still remember learning to tie mine. Ours was a board with everyone's name on and a pair of laces underneath. Talk about shaming those who couldn't do it, but as you say, everyone learnt PDQ.

Same in junior school. Once your handwriting was deemed suitably neat you could graduate from pencil to a (brought from home) fountain pen (cartridge only). No biros permitted. To this day I still love using a fountain pen and have a small collection which I keeping in a box that I made (not all my pens are shown here)
View attachment 592725
We had to go to the headmaster (where he said how proud he was of you) and give him 10p. I can not use a biro still.
 
@Nimbus and @vvaannmmaann

I thank you both but slightly concerned as to how you know all this.

Best wishes

SB (with all arcs covered, please and thank you).
I spent some time managing bicycle workshops which seem to have more than their fair share of dykes, both dinky and diesel. We drank in gay bars after work, which were often full of straight women out for a drink without being pestered by dïckhead lads.
 
I spent some time managing bicycle workshops which seem to have more than their fair share of dykes, both dinky and diesel. We drank in gay bars after work, which were often full of straight women out for a drink without being pestered by dïckhead lads.
Reminds me of an occasion when I was told to meet Mrs SB (version 1) in a pub in Oxford that she went to with her work mates but I had never been to before.

I get to Oxford and ask a bloke directions who looks at me funny and rather abruptly points me on my way.

Same same second bloke as I got lost.

Third bloke (me still lost) is massively helpful and very friendly and almost walks me to the place.

I walk into pub, meet Mrs SB (Ver 1) then notice the bowl of durex on the bar, the mainly male clientele, and why she would go there after work with the girls.

My brain then starts reversing back to remember all the people who heard me asking very loudly on a busy Friday night how I could get to the gayest of all gay pubs in Oxford.

ETA- was quite nice actually.
 
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It used to be so simple...
View attachment 593423
I always thought the original design was smarter.
Royal-Marine.jpg
 
Reminds me of an occasion when I was told to meet Mrs SB (version 1) in a pub in Oxford that she went to with her work mates but I had never been to before.

I get to Oxford and ask a bloke directions who looks at me funny and rather abruptly points me on my way.

Same same second bloke as I got lost.

Third bloke (me still lost) is massively helpful and very friendly and almost walks me to the place.

I walk into pub, meet Mrs SB (Ver 1) then notice the bowl of durex on the bar, the mainly male clientele, and why she would go there after work with the girls.

My brain then starts reversing back to remember all the people who heard me asking very loudly on a Friday night how I could get to the gayest of gay pubs in Oxford.

ETA- was quite nice actually.
We've all done it.C
One place on notting hill... Dash in fir a swift half and a slash. Order beer, dash to bogs...urinals are set in 6 x 4 ft mirrors.
Finish and zip up, walk back into bar, which I now see is full of Freddie Mercury clones.
Ahem... Drink up and go.
 
Reminds me of an occasion when I was told to meet Mrs SB (version 1) in a pub in Oxford that she went to with her work mates but I had never been to before.

I get to Oxford and ask a bloke directions who looks at me funny and rather abruptly points me on my way.

Same same second bloke as I got lost.

Third bloke (me still lost) is massively helpful and very friendly and almost walks me to the place.

I walk into pub, meet Mrs SB (Ver 1) then notice the bowl of durex on the bar, the mainly male clientele, and why she would go there after work with the girls.

My brain then starts reversing back to remember all the people who heard me asking very loudly on a busy Friday night how I could get to the gayest of all gay pubs in Oxford.

ETA- was quite nice actually.

Working in Scotland in the late 70's, one of our loaders starts to piss razorblades so one of the guys drives him into nearest town to seek assistance.

Seeking directions to a certain street they are met with advice and smiles.

On arriving at the said street they find it is in a demolition area and the only building standing is the V.D clinic.
 
Working in Scotland in the late 70's, one of our loaders starts to piss razorblades so one of the guys drives him into nearest town to seek assistance.

Seeking directions to a certain street they are met with advice and smiles.

On arriving at the said street they find it is in a demolition area and the only building standing is the V.D clinic.
My sister used to work weeks in Europe, and fly home on Fridays.
One days she flies back, with only asmall overnight bag, jumps into a cab at LHR, and gives the address... Cabbie smirks, and off he goes, and pulls up outside the abortion clinic round the corner from our flat.
"No, no," says sister. "I'm just down the road."
"Nash, this is where you wanna be, luv", says the cnut.
Sister loses her rag, tells him to drive on, calls me out the flat, and proceeds to berate the bloke for his shitty attitude and sexist bullshit.
She later made an official complaint, and I think the cabbie had an official arse kicking.
 
My sister used to work weeks in Europe, and fly home on Fridays.
One days she flies back, with only asmall overnight bag, jumps into a cab at LHR, and gives the address... Cabbie smirks, and off he goes, and pulls up outside the abortion clinic round the corner from our flat.
"No, no," says sister. "I'm just down the road."
"Nash, this is where you wanna be, luv", says the cnut.
Sister loses her rag, tells him to drive on, calls me out the flat, and proceeds to berate the bloke for his shitty attitude and sexist bullshit.
She later made an official complaint, and I think the cabbie had an official arse kicking.
Does your sister have an Irish accent by any chance?
 

Dredd

LE

Loose lips sink ships, dontcha kno.

But on a more serious level - I agree. What the in the name of the wee man have we become?

HOWEVER - if it stops having to hear the constant whinging of the Nationalists then maybe we shouldn't be looking a gift-horse in the mouth?
 
Does your sister have an Irish accent by any chance?
Nope, Saffer at the time.
But yes, there were a fair few colleens abouT.
On another occasion, as I was off to the paper shop, there was a bloke and a bird arguing outside. He was wearing a rugby jersey from my saffer school, though I didn't recognise the chap.
I clocked him, and him me, and it was obvious he recognised me.
Hardly the place and time to go introduce myself!!!
 

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